


Tracing Shadows

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim helps his partner deal with troubling issues after a man from Blair's past is released from prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracing Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This discusses sexual abuse and uses explicit language.

## Tracing Shadows

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: Jim helps his partner deal with troubling issues after a man from Blair's past is released from prison. 

Notes: Thanks to Jenn aka XFreak for her constant support. 

Warnings: Discusses sexual abuse and uses explicit language. 

* * *

Tracing Shadows  
by Grey 

The low groan nudged Jim closer to waking, the dull winter morning a good reason to stay snuggled up under the covers with his lover. The soft rumble vibrated up through the warm skin and Jim opened his eyes to a curtain of soft, dark curls covering his face. He puffed the air as he took several deep breaths and noted Blair's slightly raised temperature. Sitting up carefully, he frowned and studied his partner. Gently, he touched Blair's sleeping face, the whiskers a rough heat against his palm, his temperature higher than it should be. Damn. 

Another small moan came with a flutter of lids, blue eyes not quite focused looking up at him. A sleep-thick voice whispered his name. "Jim?" 

"Hey, Chief. You feeling okay?" 

"It's morning already?" 

"Yeah. You've got a fever." 

Blair sat up awkwardly as he pushed his hair out of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. He sagged back against Jim as the older man hugged him to his bare chest. "Do I?" 

"Just a little." Petting his stubborn curls back, Jim rested his cheek on the top of Blair's head. "You were groaning in your sleep." 

"Sorry. God, I'm tired. Morning's just too damn early." 

Jim grinned at the familiar complaint. "If you went to bed at a decent hour, it wouldn't be so early." 

Blair laughed and burrowed in closer, Jim's arms holding him tighter. "Going to bed's not the problem, man. It's what we do once we get here." 

"You complaining?" 

"Not while I'm breathing." Relaxed, Blair settled in and sighed with contentment. 

"Don't fall asleep again. Seriously, how are you feeling?" 

"Like I pulled an all nighter." Sitting up, Blair patted Jim's belly. "Don't worry, Jim. Coffee and a shower and I'll be fine." 

"You sure?" 

"You fix the coffee while I shower and we'll see." 

Jim cupped Blair's jaw and pulled him in for a brief kiss before getting up and out of bed. He handed Blair his robe before his partner could crawl back under the covers and chuckled to himself as the younger man stumbled off grumbling, "Mornings suck worse than finals." 

* * *

"I appreciate you taking time to see me, Captain Banks." 

Simon handed the man a cup of coffee and motioned for him to sit down at the table in his office. "What's this about? You said you wanted to see Blair Sandburg." 

"He's not under arrest if that's what you're thinking." 

"Thank god. You had me worried." Simon chuckled, relieved as he settled down across from the stranger and relaxed to sip his coffee. 

"No, I just asked around at the university and they said he worked here when he wasn't teaching. I'm flying back to LA this afternoon and I thought I'd catch him here before I leave." 

"So I take it this is personal?" 

"Yes and no." 

"You know, Captain Burns, cops hate answers like that." 

The larger man let out a dry laugh, his white teeth contrasting with his dark skin. "Yeah, Captain, I know that." He put the cup down on the table and leaned in. "Sandburg was involved in a case I worked several years ago." Burns hesitated, his face suddenly shadowed. "I'd just started out as a detective and it was a rough one." Shaking his head, he forced a smile. "I just wanted to touch base, that's all." 

"Touch base? How long ago was the case?" 

"Fifteen years." 

Simon's eyes narrowed, his guts clenched at the warning bells going off in his head. "Sandburg would've been a kid." 

"Yeah, he was." Uneasy, Burns stood up and walked to the window to scan the bull pen. "Looks like a fine group of people. You been captain here long?" 

"Eight years, almost nine. Look, Sandburg has been riding along as an observer for the PD for awhile now and I like to think of him as one of my own. He and Ellison are my best team. If he's in some kind of trouble, I'd like to know about it." 

Without turning around, Burns answered softly. "I didn't say he was in trouble." 

"But you're not telling me what's going on. I get the definite feeling this is more than just a friendly visit to catch up on old times. Tell me I'm wrong and make us both happy." 

After a few moments, Burns settled back down in his chair still avoiding eye contact. "Let me ask you something first." 

Sitting back, his expression guarded, Simon nodded. "What?" 

"You ever have a case get under your skin, one that wouldn't leave you alone?" 

"Sure. Every cop does." 

"Well, Blair's case was like that for me. Even after it was over, it just didn't seem finished. It still gives me nightmares sometimes." 

"Blair's case did that?" 

"He never mentioned a man named Nathan Butcher?" 

"Not that I recall, no." 

"You'd remember if he did." 

Skin prickled, Simon braced himself. "You going to tell me what this is really about?" 

"I'd like to, but I need to talk to Blair first. It's important. If he wants to share what I've said after I see him, that's up to him." Burns glanced down at his watch. "What time does he usually get here?" 

"It varies. You could wait in the break room or I could give you a quick tour. Jim and Blair should be here pretty soon. I don't think Sandburg has classes on Friday mornings." 

"Jim? That would be Jim Ellison, his partner, right? What's he like?" 

"A real hard ass, ex-army and covert ops. One of the best detectives I've ever had, but don't mess with Sandburg. They're partners. He's very protective. Blair's a civilian, but we treat him like one of the team." 

"And why's that?" 

"Because he deserves it." 

Burns smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to hear he's done okay for himself. I guess I still see him in my mind as a scared kid. I swear the boy had the biggest blue eyes I'd ever seen." 

"Sandburg's no kid, even if he acts like it sometimes." 

"Well, why don't you show me around until he gets here?" 

"Sure. Go on over to the break room and I'll be right there." Showing Burns to the door, Simon waited until he saw the other man talking to Rhonda before picking up the receiver. After a few rings he mumbled, "Come on, Jim, pick up the damn phone." 

* * *

"Was that Simon?" 

Tense, Jim frowned as he hung up, his gut knotted. "Yeah." 

Blair buckled his belt and pulled his hair back to tie it at the base of his neck. "What's going on? New case?" 

"Not exactly. Apparently an old one." 

"You've lost me." 

Jim turned, crossing his arms and keeping his voice even. "How do you know a Captain Carl Burns from Los Angeles?" 

His breathing hitched, Blair stood suspended. It took several moments before he lowered his arms. "Why are you asking?" 

"Don't play games with me here, Sandburg. Who is he? Simon says he's at the station waiting to see you." The words came out harsh, more sharp than he intended. 

Blair stepped away from the sofa to the window, his body tight and his voice soft with shock. "Jesus." 

"What is it, Blair? Who is this guy?" 

"Part of a bad dream, man. A shadow." 

Jim moved closer, but didn't touch him, his whole body on alert. "You're losing me, Chief. What's going on?" 

Closing his eyes, Blair leaned his forehead against the cool glass, his voice shaking. "I don't know." 

"Yes, you do. Tell me." 

"He was a cop I used to know. It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago." 

Touching his shoulder gently, Jim resisted the urge to pull his lover closer. Instead he steadied himself and fought down the incredible fear whooping at the edge of his thinking. "I take it something bad happened with this guy." 

Instead of answering, Blair stood up straighter and turned, wrapping his arms around Jim's middle as he settled in closer. "God, Jim. I don't want to remember all that. Why's he here now?" 

"I don't know. What is it you don't want to remember?" 

Pulling away, but still in Jim's arms, Blair shook his head. "I can't talk about it right now." Glancing up, his eyes met Jim's concerned gaze. "What did Simon say exactly?" 

"He said Burns wanted to talk to you about something important, but he wouldn't say what. He did say you were involved with a case he had when you were a kid." 

Blair shuddered and shook his head. "I don't want to see him, not there, not now." 

"He said it's important." 

Eyes too bright stared back as Blair pleaded. "You don't understand, Jim. I _can't_ see him. Not at the station. It'd be too much like it was then." Taking a deep, calming breath, Blair added, "Tell him to meet me at the coffee shop on the corner of Duker in an hour." 

"You mean meet us." 

"No, I mean me. I don't want you there." 

"Fuck that, Sandburg. What's going on here?" 

His voice still hushed, but shaky, Blair managed to speak without breaking. "Don't be pissed, man. Just trust me. I'll tell you about it after I've had a chance to get myself together." He ran a nervous hand back over his hair, the curls wispy and not wanting to stay in the tieback. "I never expected to have to deal with this again. I guess that was just wishful thinking." 

Clenching his jaw, his chest aching, Jim stepped closer, his hand on his lover's shoulder. "I trust you, Blair, but I hate being left out. Let me go with you. I can stay in the truck, but I don't want you going through whatever this is alone." 

Blair gulped the air before he finally answered. "You promise not to listen in?" 

He hated the words, but he forced himself to say them. "I promise." 

"Then call Simon and make the arrangements. I need a minute alone here." 

As Jim picked up the phone, Blair headed to the bathroom. Even from behind the closed door, Jim heard the pitiful sounds of his lover's choked breathing. His own heart hurt as he spoke quietly. "Simon, we need a favor." 

* * *

The world shimmered, almost unreal as it finally settled into place while Jim parked the car in a space near the coffee shop. Blair swallowed hard, the words difficult to manage. "I'll tell you all about it, Jim. I promise. Just let me find out what Carl wants and then we'll go somewhere and I'll explain." 

Jim remained silent, but nodded, his face grim and his jaw clenching. As Blair gripped the handle of the door, Jim touched his shoulder and squeezed gently in support. Blair glanced back, his eyes burning, his gut clenched with the strain of wanting to just start the truck and run away with Jim to the remotest place on the earth, a deserted island, Peru, China. He didn't care. Instead, he simply nodded and got out, heading in to meet with the man who saved his life so many years ago. 

Walking inside, it took only a few seconds to recognized Carl Burns even after fifteen years. Taller and darker than Simon, his lean frame had remained trim, but his short grey hair and hardened features aged his strong face. Dark brown eyes met his and Burns stood up and waited for Blair to step closer before he spoke and extended a hand. "I'm glad you could see me, Blair." 

Blair shook his hand and then avoided knowing eyes. He sat down and grasped his hands together on the table. "I'd say I was glad to see you, but that would be a lie." 

"I understand." Burns sighed loudly and grimaced before he leaned in. "I'm sorry to have to be here, but I thought you had a right to know." 

The air thinned and Blair shook his head, hoping that his fear wouldn't be realized. "He's out, right? The son of bitch is out?" 

"He got fifteen years. He served his time and they released him last week." 

"Shit." Blair sat back, his hand over his mouth. He shut his eyes and practiced breathing. He jumped, startled when Burns put a cup fresh coffee down in front of him a few minutes later before sitting back down. 

"You want cream or sugar?" 

"I want to forget about Butcher." 

"I wish that were possible. When I heard about the release, I thought about contacting you by phone, but I felt like you deserved to be told in person." 

Biting his lower lip, Blair nodded. He stared at the serious face across from him. "Have you told the others?" 

"Michael died ten years ago. Suicide." 

"Suicide? Fuck." Blair flashed on a dark-haired young man shaking beneath him, blood smeared and sticky between them. He shook his head to wipe away the disturbing image. "What about Ben?" 

"I lost track of Ben about that time, too. He was into some serious drug use and was arrested a few times for petty theft. The last I heard he was in San Francisco, but I think he must have changed his name. I haven't been able to find him and believe me, I've tried. All of you boys stayed with me after the Butcher case." 

Blair played with the edge of the coffee cup, his body tense, his head throbbing. He didn't have to ask why Burns remembered the case so well. He knew the answer. Instead, he turned the conversation to something he could handle. "I guess you know I'm working with the police now." 

"I know. I met Captain Banks. He thinks highly of you and your partner. I have to admit, I was surprised your life took that turn. I figured you'd be in a jungle or remote village somewhere by now." 

"Me, too, but I've found what I've been looking for here with Jim." 

"Jim Ellison, your partner?" 

Biting his lower lip, avoiding eye contact again, he took a deep breath. "We're partners outside of work, too." 

"Ellison's gay?" 

"So am I, mostly." 

"I already knew that." 

"I know you did. I just wanted to be sure you saw the whole picture of my life here. I love him. I love what we do together on the job and at home. I don't want that ruined by Butcher." 

"Then don't let Butcher have that much power." Burns scooted his chair closer and lowered his voice. "Listen, he may not even come here. He likes boys, not men. You might not hold any interest after all this time. I just wanted you to be prepared in case he did show up." 

Blair snorted, shaking his head in anger and frustration. "My testimony is what sent him to prison. If you could find me, so can he. Hell, as far as I know, he might already be here in the city. He always said he'd make me pay for what happened. I've got every reason to believe he meant it." 

"At the time, yeah." Burns paused and measured his words carefully. "I've been a cop a long time, Blair. I've seen a lot and I work on my gut instinct. While I'd love to sit here and reassure you that Butcher is probably going to steer clear of Cascade and move on with his life, I can't be sure. He's an obsessive sociopath who just spent fifteen years in an isolated prison cell with nothing much to think about except the pretty boys who got away. I think you should tell your partner and police friends what happened and have them watch your back until we're sure what his deal is." 

Covering his face with both hands, Blair's brain buzzed with panic. He finally looked up and managed to choke out the words. "I've never told anybody here about what happened, not even Jim." 

"That's not unusual in cases like yours, Blair. But now you've got a situation and you have to deal with it. Hoping Butcher's just going to play nice is dangerous." 

"I know that." 

"Would it be easier if I told them?" 

"No. I'll tell Jim. The rest don't need the details. Just knowing someone might be coming after me will be enough." 

Burns nodded in understanding, but frowned. "I'm just sorry I had to be the one to tell you about Butcher being released." 

"Don't worry. I won't shoot the messenger. I can't guarantee the same for Butcher if he shows up and Jim meets him." 

"I hate to say this, but it wouldn't be such a bad thing if the son of bitch ate a bullet." 

Blair bit his tongue, hating himself for thinking the same thing. 

* * *

Years of military training came in handy from time to time. Jim sat, his back straight, his arms crossed while he waited. Blair paced in front of the window, his face strained as he stared off at things nowhere near the present. 

After a few more minutes, Blair stopped and took a deep breath. "Thanks for being so patient. I know it's killing you not to ask." 

"I'm fine, Chief. Just tell me what you can." 

"Liar. You're no more fine than I am." 

Jim tilted his head and barely kept his voice steady. "Okay. I'm not fine and neither are you, that's for damn sure." Blair sagged down in the chair across from the sofa, his face haggard, his fingers massaging his temples. Jim frowned. Despite the pale features, his lover still had a fever. His voice softened. "You want some aspirin?" 

"Yeah, thanks. My head's killing me." 

Getting up quickly, Jim retrieved the pills and some bottled water. "You want some hot tea? It'll only take a second." 

"Sure, but later. I have to tell you about this before I lose my nerve." 

"Take the pills first." 

Obeying without question, Blair swallowed the medication. He handed back the bottle, his hand trembling. "Thanks." 

Jim put the water on the coffee table and sat back down on the sofa, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "Okay, tell me what's going on." 

Not looking up, Blair's voice came out rough and raspy. "It was so long ago, man. It's hard to think about it being real, you know?" 

"Yeah, Chief, I know. I feel like that when I think about Bud's death. Peru's like that, too, sometimes." 

"Yeah, it would be. Trauma does that. Makes it all seem like you're tracing shadows on a wall. The memories are there, but they're so dark and formless." 

"And scary." 

"They are that." Blair wet his lower lip and closed his eyes as he spoke. "When Lash took me, it scared the shit out of me." 

Confused, Jim shook his head. "What's David Lash got to do with this?" 

"He wasn't the first asshole to kidnap me." 

"Shit. You were kidnapped?" 

"I was thirteen. We lived in Los Angeles with my mom's cousin Sarah and her husband David. It was February and it was raining. I wasn't supposed to ride the bus to the museum alone, but I did it anyway. That's where I met Butcher." 

Heart heavy, Jim forced himself to keep his senses on line. "Butcher?" 

"Nathan Butcher. I should've known better, but he seemed so nice, you know? He started talking about the Aztecs and fine art and then he bought me a hamburger. We spend hours together. When it was time to go home, he offered me a ride." 

"Shit, Chief. Tell me you didn't." 

Blair's eyes opened and he sighed. "Believe me, I know how stupid it was. I should've known better. Mom always warned me and normally I would've listened. I'm not sure why I did it. Just curious I guess." 

"Curious about what?" 

"About Nathan." 

Awareness dawning, Jim forced air through a dry throat. "You were attracted to him." 

"Yeah. I didn't understand that at the time. I just knew I liked him. He was handsome and kind and it just never occurred to me that he could be evil." 

"You were only thirteen." 

"I know. The ignorance of youth. The thing was, by the time we got to his place, I should've figured it out. But I didn't. I didn't even have a clue until I saw Michael and Ben." 

"Michael and Ben?" 

Blair let his head fall back as he swallowed his own voice. "He hit me from behind and when I woke up, I was in a cage." Choking slightly, he straightened up, his breathing a bit more ragged. "We were all naked. They'd both been there for a few days already. Michael was in the worst shape, but Ben wasn't much better." 

Getting up, Jim came around the coffee table and kneeled beside Blair's chair. He gently pulled his lover into his arms, the smaller body shaking. After a few moments, Blair spoke into his chest. "You can figure out the rest, right? I don't want to say it." 

"He raped you?" 

"All of us, Jim. Over and over." 

His heart racing, his vision blurred, Jim kept his own tears in check but just barely. "You're okay now, Blair. He can't hurt you anymore." 

Shaking his head, Blair pulled away to stare into Jim's eyes. "He's out, man. He got fifteen years and now he's out. That's what Burns wanted to tell me." 

Jim cupped the back of his lover's head, his rage battering his lungs. "Fuck Butcher. He comes anywhere near you, he's a dead man." 

Blair didn't answer, merely stroked Jim's face gently before resting his head against the heaving chest. The older man hugged him closer and closed his eyes, his mind wildly listing a hundred grisly deaths for a man named Butcher. 

* * *

"So, where is he now?" 

Jim glanced through the blinds of Simon's office as he spoke quietly. "He's with Brown in the break room. They're talking about Rafe's latest fling with Gladys down in booking. What did you find out about the Butcher case?" 

Simon hesitated and then put his cigar in the ashtray on his desk. "Are you sure you want to know all this, Jim? I mean, I understand your concern about Blair and I'm working on tracking this guy down, but the rest..." 

"I need to know, Simon. Blair can't really talk about the details. I understand that, but as a cop, you and I both know, I need everything we've got on this guy. I need to know how he thinks so that if he does show up, I'll know what to expect." 

Nodding grimly, Simon handed over the file. "I pulled a few strings to get this, but I figured you'd want it." The captain's voice lowered. "It's ugly, Jim. I understand why he doesn't want to talk about it. We've seen this before in juvenile abuse victims." 

"Blair's not a victim." 

"Victim, survivor. You know what I'm saying. My point is, don't be angry because he didn't tell you about it." 

"I'm not angry with Sandburg. I'm pissed at the situation, at the fact that this asshole's out walking around and my partner's fucked up because of it." 

Simon stepped closer. "I understand that. It's just that I think you should take a few deep breaths and step back a minute. Blair's going to need you calm and steady, not ready to take out anything that makes a sudden noise in the background." 

Moving to the window, file still in hand, Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke quietly. "I hear what you're saying. I'm not handling this very well." 

"It's a lot to deal with." 

"I wish he'd told me." 

"Why?" 

Jim turned, confused by the question. "Why?" 

"Yeah, why? Have you told him everything about Peru?" 

"That's different." 

"Is it?" 

"Yeah. For one thing, I don't remember most of that." 

"But what you do remember, have you shared it all?" 

His muscles heavy, Jim shook his head. "No. It hurts too much to talk about." 

"So you can understand why he didn't want to say anything." 

"Intellectually, yes. Emotionally, no. I don't want us to have secrets." 

"In a perfect world with perfect people that would work. In this world, you have to know he loves you." 

"I know." 

Simon hesitated. "You want to be alone to read the file?" 

Jim's gaze met worried brown eyes. "How bad is it? Really?" 

"It'd be bad if it were a report on a stranger. Knowing it's Blair, well, it's about as bad as I can imagine short of him being dead." 

"Shit." 

"I'll be outside if you need me." 

"Could you keep Blair out of here until I finish?" 

"Sure. I've got some new pictures of Daryl." 

"Thanks." Jim ran his fingers over the smooth edge of the thick folder. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We'll keep him safe. He's going to be okay." 

Nodding as Simon left the room, Jim slumped down into the chair and held his breath. After a few moments, he swallowed hard and opened the door to his partner's past. 

* * *

"He's a handsome boy, Simon. You've got every reason to be proud." 

His face glowing, the older man put the pictures back in the envelope and slipped them into his inside coat pocket. "I am. He's a pain in the ass sometimes, but I figure that's genetic." 

Blair laughed, the sound slightly raspy before he coughed several times. Simon handed him another tissue across the break room table. "Sorry. Guess I'm getting a cold." 

"Sounds like it. Maybe you should go home and get some rest." 

"I just got here." Blair threw away the Kleenex, his nose burning and sore as he took another sip of coffee. "You don't have to baby sit. I'm fine." 

"Yeah, I can see that." 

Glancing up, Blair met concerned and knowing eyes. "Okay, so I'm not so fine." 

"You don't have to put on a show for me, Blair. I'm your friend. This can't be easy." 

Using both hands to hold the mug, Blair remained silent for a few long moments. When he did finally speak, the words stretched in the air. "It happened so long ago. You'd think I'd be over it by now." 

"I don't think you ever get over something like that, not completely. I mean, I still get nightmares about Kincaid and Quinn and they didn't do half of what Butcher did." 

Blair closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. "I figured you'd read the file." 

"Pretty much a given." 

"And Jim?" 

"He's reading it now." 

"God." 

A hand touched his arm gently. "It's okay, Blair." 

Standing up, Blair walked the room several times and stared out into the busy bullpen, thankful for the activity that kept the room private for the time being. "You and Jim keep saying that. I want to believe it, but you don't know this guy. And even if a miracle did happen and he decided to give up on getting revenge, he's a pedophile and a sadist, Simon. You and I both know people like that don't get rehabilitated in prison. I keep thinking that there's some kid out there just waiting to be his next victim." 

Simon remained seated, his eyes never leaving Blair. "He's a registered sex offender. We'll find him. We'll make sure that doesn't happen." 

Wrapping his arms around himself, Blair leaned back against the wall. "Promise me something." 

"What?" 

"Watch out for Jim on this one." 

Simon frowned and nodded, not bothering to ask for clarification. "Already done. If Butcher shows up, I'll make sure Jim's never alone with the man." 

"Jim's going to be stretched and to be honest, I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be. One minute I'm numb, the next scared shitless." 

Simon stood up and stepped closer, his back to the window. "Don't worry about Jim. He'll be okay once he settles down from the shock. You've had half a lifetime to know what he's just now finding out. He loves you. It hurts knowing somebody did something like that to someone you care about." 

"It hurts knowing he knows. I never wanted him to find out." 

"Why not? You didn't do anything to be ashamed of. You were the victim." 

As Simon touched his shoulder, Blair flinched suddenly, but then allowed the brief contact. "It's still not something I want to talk about." Glancing through the glass, he saw Jim heading to the restroom. "I guess I should go see how he's doing." 

"Blair, I know you're upset now, but later, after we take care of Butcher, you might need to talk to somebody. If that person's not Jim, you can talk to me or I've got the name of a good counselor you could see." 

"Thanks, Simon, but I'm okay. Don't worry about it. It's old news. I've been dealing with this for a long time now." 

"Too long. It's time to share a little." 

Without answering, Blair left Simon and headed towards the restroom. Pushing the door open, he heard Jim retching his guts out. Swallowing back his own bile, he stepped to the sink and ran cold water over a paper towel. When the heaving finished, he handed it over with a shaky hand. "I'm sorry." 

"Jesus. I want to kill the fucker." 

"I know the feeling." 

* * *

Jim locked the door behind him and followed Blair inside, both men remaining silent. His partner went to the counter and started to boil water without taking his coat off. As he slipped off his jacket, Jim frowned as Blair fumbled and dropped the mug. "Fuck." 

"It's okay, Chief. I'll clean it up." 

"I can do it." 

Jim took his lover's arm and pulled him up and away from the scattered shards. "You're upset. Go sit down. I'll bring you some tea when it's done." 

Hesitating briefly, Blair relented and then walked away. He took off his coat and tossed it on his old bed before heading to the bathroom and slamming the door. Jim busied himself with clean up and then got down a new mug for Blair. He sipped a beer while he waited for the water to boil and his lover to return. The whole day left him drained and exhausted. He couldn't imagine how wasted Blair must feel. 

Several minutes later, Blair stood at the end of the counter, his face flushed and his eyes swollen. His words came out husky and choked. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I should've told you." 

Stepping closer, Jim took his hand and spoke softly. "I wish you had, but I understand why you didn't. It's not exactly something that would come up on it's own." 

Avoiding eye contact, Blair nodded. "I thought about telling you when we worked the Terrance case last year." 

Jim flashed on the gruesome rape case, his stomach clenching as he remembered the brutal effects on his partner. "Why didn't you?" 

"I was afraid you'd take me off the case. I didn't want you doing that shit alone." 

"Is that the only reason?" 

Blair hesitated, but didn't pull away. "Telling you would've made it real again." 

"Real again? It's always real, Chief." 

"I know that, but sometimes it's more real than others." Blair looked up and met Jim's eyes. "Right now it's too damn real and I'm not sure what to do. It's like I'm thirteen all over again." 

"You're not thirteen and you're not alone. We're in this together." 

Jim pulled his partner into a hug and then kissed him on the top of his head before turning off the stove and leading him to the sofa. Settled there, he wrapped his arms around Blair and whispered, "I love you." 

"I love you, too, Jim." 

"So let's just forget about the other shit for awhile." 

Blair relaxed and nodded, his body warmer than it should be. "Let's go to bed. I'm really tired." 

"And you're wheezing when you breathe. You need to rest." 

"It's just a cold. Hope you don't catch it." 

"Well, if I do, you can just whip up some of those special herbs and spices." 

"That's Kentucky Fried Chicken, not a cold remedy." 

Smiling, Jim squeezed Blair and then stood up, drawing him up with him. "Come on. Tomorrow's Saturday. We can sleep in." 

"Unless Simon calls." 

His jaw set and determined, Jim directed Blair to the stairs, his hand in the small of his back. "If he does, then we'll deal with it. Together." 

Blair remained silent as they climbed the stairs. Jim stripped off as Blair slumped down on the edge of the bed still fully dressed. 

"You going to sleep with your clothes on?" 

"You mind?" 

"I guess not. You want your wooly mittens?" 

A brief smile followed a shrug. "I guess I'm being silly." 

"Not unless you want to wear your shoes, too." 

Blair chuckled and met Jim's eyes as he tilted his head. "You want to take them off?" 

Jim shook his head and kneeled by the bed, his hands taking Blair's right foot to untie the shoe lace. "I always knew you wanted me at your feet, Chief." 

Blair petted the top of his head while Jim finished his task. Wearing only his boxers, Jim sat down on the mattress beside his lover. He kissed his temple and then crawled under the comforter. Blair stood up and took off his clothes slowly and precisely, neatly folding his jeans and sweater before climbing in beside Jim. "I'm feeling a little crazy here, man. Bear with me." 

Snuggling in close, Jim whispered, "I hate to break it to you, babe, but you've always been a little nuts." 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yeah. Not that I'm complaining, but it's the truth." 

Blair chuckled and closed his eyes, his breathing more regular. "I appreciate the information, officer." 

"Part of the job, Chief. Part of the job." 

* * *

Jim jerked awake to the alarm, his muscles tense, his arm lashing out reflexively to push the off button only to find the thing silent. 5:13 glowed green in the low light like a taunting smile. The phone rang again and he groaned. Fuck. Getting up quickly, he headed downstairs without bothering to grab a robe. Snatching the receiver up, he snapped, "Ellison." 

"Jim, it's Simon. I know it's early, but I need you to come to the station." 

Fully alert, Jim stood straighter. "Butcher?" 

"Yeah, and he's been dead for a couple of days. Landlord dropped by with some rental papers yesterday afternoon and smelled the stench." 

"Yesterday afternoon? Why are we just now getting it?" 

"Good question. Seems the landlord got loaded first and then decided to go to an ex-girlfriend's place before he called it in. Brown caught it early this morning and then he called me." Simon hesitated. "This isn't just a simple murder, Jim. The guy was tortured first." 

Jim didn't feel the least bit guilty for the positive kick he got for thinking what goes around, comes around. "So Brown needs my help?" 

"No, but I want you in here to make sure we've got all our ducks in a row. Blair's connection to this guy's going to come out in the investigation and it could end up in the papers. We need to be prepared for that." 

"Blair's got nothing to do with this." 

"I know that. We just have to make sure that everybody else does." 

"I'll be there as soon as I can." 

"Leave Blair at home. He doesn't need to be in on this right now." 

"Agreed." Jim hung up and turned to find Blair standing on the stairs, his eyes dull and not quite focused. 

"What's going on? Is it Butcher?" 

"Go back to bed, Chief. I've got to go downtown for awhile, but I'll be back. I'll bring us some fresh bagels." 

"I'll get dressed and go with you." 

"No. You're still congested. No offense, but you look like shit, Sandburg. Get some sleep and I'll be back before you know it. This shouldn't take too long." Jim stepped over to his lover, his hand taking Blair's and leading him back upstairs. The heat of the touch concerned him. "You need to take some more aspirin. Temperature's rising." 

"Then why am I freezing?" 

"Get your ass under the covers and I'll get you something." 

Tucked in, Blair closed his eyes as he rolled onto his side. He coughed several times and clumsily reached for a tissue. Jim scooted the box closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "If you're not better by this afternoon, you're going to the doctor." 

"It's just a cold." Blair coughed harder and cleared his throat. He spit into the Kleenex before wadding it up and adding it to the pile in the waste basket. 

"Maybe, but you're coughing up icky yellow and green stuff. Sounds like we need a second opinion." 

Nodding reluctantly, Blair sighed and shifted to meet Jim's worried gaze. "Could be." He reached a hand up to stroke Jim's bare chest lovingly. "Don't you get cold running around half naked?" 

"Not with you around to get me all hot and bothered." 

"Horny devil." 

"Tease." 

"Yeah, yeah, sexy guy, that's me, red nose and all." Blair took another wheezing breath and closed his eyes again. "Tell Simon you should get overtime for coming in when it's still dark out." 

"You tell him. In the meantime, I need to get my ass moving." Leaning forward, Jim kissed his forehead and then stood up to leave. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Be sure to lock the door." 

Jim halted, the unguarded fear in his partner's voice palpable. Frowning, he walked back to the bed and sat down again. Protecting his lover from the news of his tormentor's death no longer worked in his favor. "Listen, Blair. Butcher's dead. He can't hurt you anymore." 

Startled, Blair sat up and blinked several times. "What?" 

"Brown's on the case. Simon wants me in there to just make sure we've got all the bases covered with this." 

"Bases? I don't get it." 

"Your history with the man is part of the investigation, but we don't want it to go public if it doesn't have to." 

Befuddled, Blair pushed his hair out of his face. "He's really dead?" 

"According to Simon, yeah." 

"And you think I had something to do with it?" 

Jim touched his arm and shook his head. "Of course not. I just want to make sure nobody else thinks it." Blair opened his mouth, but then shut it, his face suddenly drained of color. "You okay, Chief?" 

"Not really. This is all too weird. First he's out after all this time and now he's dead. It doesn't make sense." 

Cupping his partner's face, Jim spoke softly. "It's going to be okay. I'll be back in a little while and we'll talk about it." 

"I should go with you." 

"You're sick. You need to stay here." 

Miserable and tired, Blair nodded and then settled back under the covers. "Do me a favor." 

"What?" 

"Don't stay away any longer than you have to. I'm feeling a little rough here." To emphasize his point, Blair coughed raggedly several times and Jim handed him the box of tissues. 

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Blair. Bet on it." 

* * *

"How's the kid?" 

"He's sick and confused. So, what's Brown got?" 

Simon put down his cigar and handed the file to Jim. "Brown's in the morgue now. I put a rush on the autopsy and forensics. Dan and Serena came in early as a favor. I don't want anyone getting ahead of us on this. I also put in a call to Burns down in LA. He hasn't called back yet." 

"Burns? Why call him?" 

Simon poured out two cups of coffee, handing one to Jim and then sipping the other. "You don't think it's a little coincidental that his guy shows up out of nowhere to tell Blair about this Butcher personally?" 

"He's a cop. Besides, Blair said he and this Burns guy got tight when the case was going on. It's only natural that he'd want to tell Blair in person." 

"So why didn't he do it when he first got to town? According to my records Burns was in town two whole days before contacting me or Sandburg. He said he found out about Blair working here through the university, but for some reason that just doesn't sound right to me. If he kept tabs on the kid like he said he did, he'd already know where Blair spent most of his time." 

Jim sat down as he put the mug on the desk and shook his head. "You really think Burns had something to do with Butcher's death?" 

"His arrival coincides with Butcher's estimated time of death. I'm not ruling out the possibility." 

"Then why tell Blair anything about Butcher's release in the first place? We'd probably never even make the connection." 

"Maybe he needed to cover his ass if we did." 

"God, I really hope you're wrong." 

"Me, too." Simon lit his cigar again while Jim opened the file. "So if Burns isn't involved, who else would be? Butcher just got out of prison last week and according to the landlord only rented the place a day before the murder." 

"Jesus." Jim scanned the pictures of Butcher, naked, his hands tied above his head to the inside rim of a steel cage. Blood oozed from slashes along his chest while a huge, flesh-colored dildo filled his ass. A leather studded cockring wrapped around his limp penis, his balls bound and separated by a metal extension to the device. His bleeding mouth stuffed with a ball gag completed the image of a man dying from a bullet to the head after suffering the same methods of torture he used against others fifteen years ago. 

"You can see why I'm worried about Blair seeing any of this." 

"Yeah. It has to be someone connected with the case. Nobody else would have all these details." The words came out calm, but Jim's heart pounded harder, his stomach knotted. "We need a list of names, people who had access to the file." 

"Or people who wanted the man dead. Jim, if you hadn't just found out about all this, your name would be at the top of that list." 

"Fuck that, Simon." Jim stood up, the rage revving through him, his muscles tensing in his arms and legs from the adrenaline. "If I'd wanted to kill him, I wouldn't have done that other shit. This wasn't just rage. It was personal, but calculated. What if Blair and the other two boys weren't the only ones he did that to? What if one of these people just waited for Butcher to be released and followed him here?" 

"That's a pretty big stretch, Jim. We've got no way of knowing." 

"Burns might know some names. The file mentioned previous arrests, but no convictions. We need those files. We also need to track down the other surviving victim, Ben Sherman." 

"We can try, but it's been a long time. He could be anywhere." Simon took a deep breath and calmed his gruff tone. "Look, this is Brown's case. You can't be directly involved." 

"I'm already involved. Brown can be the primary, but I can help." 

"Jim, please, you're talking to me here. You can't be objective. Let Brown handle it. Rafe and Taggart can help out, too. I'll keep you informed, but I want you to back off. I don't want this thing blowing up in our faces." 

"You mean make it look like we're dragging our heels?" 

"Or covering up. Like it or not, people love hearing about all the sordid details of sex crimes." 

Disgusted with the reality of that statement, Jim shook his head as he wiped his face with one hand. "You going to call me if you get anything?" 

"Absolutely. Now, go home and take care of your partner. Keep him and yourself away from here until you hear from me, got it?" 

Jim stepped to the door and paused as he touched the knob. "I appreciate this, Simon." 

"I don't always say it, but you know I love Sandburg, too. So go home and keep him safe. We'll do what we have to here." 

* * *

The sour smell of vomit assaulted Jim's nostrils as soon as he opened the loft door. "Blair?" 

His lover groaned and coughed several more times from the bathroom, each spasm long and wrenching. 

Shit. Jim bolted down the hall to find Blair huddled on the tiles, holding his head. "Jesus, Chief. What happened?" 

"I feel awful." 

"Matches the package." Jim kneeled and touched his forehead. "You're burning up and coughing your guts up. Time for the ER, my friend." 

"I was afraid of that." 

Carefully, Jim helped Blair to his feet and walked him out to the sofa. "Wait here. I'll get your clothes and shoes." 

"I knew I should've stayed dressed last night." The raspy words led to more coughing and once again, Blair hunched over, dry heaving several times before Jim returned with his jeans and sweatshirt. Hurriedly, the older man dressed his partner and slipped on his shoes without socks. He gauged the flushed cheeks and clenched his jaw, forcing the panic to take second place to taking care of business. He got Blair to his feet and put on his coat. "Think you can walk to the car?" 

Blair grasped his arm for security and nodded. "Just don't walk too fast and I'll make it." 

Pulling him closer and supporting much of his weight, Jim headed out, taking even more care as they reached the elevator. Blair's strength waned as he slumped slightly, but caught himself against Jim's side. They rode down in silence and Jim got his partner safely to the truck, his heart racing, his mind checking off the details he needed to consider once they arrived at the hospital. 

"I'm going to be fine, Jim. Don't worry." Blair smiled weakly as Jim started the truck, the older man's eyes taking turns monitoring the road and his lover's condition. Lights and sirens got them there quickly. 

Once there, Blair settled into the waiting room, his breathing labored and wheezing. Jim bellowed and badgered before waving his badge, not feeling the least bit guilty for shoving to the head of the line. While he filled out the necessary forms, he kept his hearing trained on the examination room and Blair's answers to the doctor. He wanted to run back and be there beside his friend, but remained composed and handed back the clipboard before pacing the hallway near Blair's cubicle. Another half an hour passed before breathing improved behind the curtain and the doctor came out to talk with him. 

"You're Detective Ellison, Mr. Sandburg's partner?" 

"Yes. How is he?" 

"I'm Dr. Simmons. I've treated him with medications to help reduce the acute bronchial spasms. I'm glad you brought him in when you did though. He doesn't have a history of this kind of presentation, but he does have a serious respiratory infection and this sometimes happens. As soon as his O2 levels are normal and his fever's down, I'll give him some prescriptions for antibiotics, cough medicines, and an inhaler." 

"You're releasing him?" 

"In a few hours if all goes well, yes, but with strict instructions about resting and taking the medications. If he doesn't show drastic improvement over the next few days or he gets worse, you can bring him back in and we'll admit him. He did tell me you were a medic in the army, is that correct?" 

"Yeah, I can take care of him. That's not a problem." Jim swallowed hard, his dry mouth making it difficult. "This just sort of scared me. He's never been this sick before." 

Simmons looked sympathetic and nodded. "I understand. These kind of episodes can be frightening, Detective. According to his history, his lungs were compromised earlier this year when he had a near drowning." 

Near drowning, hell. He fucking died. "That's right." 

"That's probably why he's reacting so strongly now. His lungs aren't fully recovered from that incident. What I want to do is check him again in a few hours and then I'll give you the prescriptions and instructions for his care. Okay?" 

Jim hesitated before he asked, "Could I see him?" 

"Sure, but just for a few minutes. I'm doing some other tests shortly, and then I'll let you know when you can take him home." 

"Thanks." Simmons walked away before Jim could shake his hand. Wiping his face, Jim took a deep breath to steady himself and walked in to see Blair lying in the examining bed. His face pale and eyes closed, the younger man's breathing still sounded loud and ragged over the hissing of the oxygen line under his nose. A monitor beeped beside him and an IV dripped vital fluids and medications into his right arm. "Hey, Chief." 

Turning his head, Blair's drug dazed eyes opened and he smiled. "Hey, Jim." 

Stepping closer, Jim took Blair's free hand and leaned against the upraised rail. "You scared the shit out of me, babe." 

"Sorry." Blair squeezed his hand gently as he closed his eyes. "Oh, man, my brain is like so fuzzy right now. Don't know what he gave me, but I'm really flying." 

"Breathing again does that." 

"And my chest doesn't hurt like it did." 

"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling so bad, Blair?" 

Eyes still shut, Blair's voice drifted. "Too many things going on, Jim. Too tired." 

Lifting his lover's hand to his lips, Jim kissed it and relented. "Go to sleep then. I'll be here when you wake up." 

Blair didn't answer, his breaths slowing and no longer quite as labored, his body relaxed. Thankful for modern medicine, Jim stood up straighter and sighed. Nothing scared him as much as the thought of losing the one person he loved more than life itself. His eyes burned with the blur of truth as he settled down in the chair by the bed and waited, pushing away the ever present fear of fucking up and losing Blair forever. 

* * *

Jim stared out the loft window, his arms crossed as he studied the new snowfall. The thick white cover muffled the sounds, caught the light in a whole new range of colors, brief sparkles that made a myriad of rainbows. Blair hated winter in general, but loved new snow, making snowmen and snowballs like a little kid when he could. Jim sighed and turned around to stare at his sleeping friend stretched out under the pile of blankets on the sofa. Sitting down across from him, Jim slumped forward and thumbed his lower lip a few moments. Hours of sleeping reduced the fever, the flush replaced by pale features under the shadow of dark whiskers. Blair's brown curls fanned out from his head, slight wisps drawing the low light around him. Closing his own eyes, Jim sat back and listened to the even breathing, the congestion still there, but not quite as tight as before. Relieved, he concentrated on the comforting sound, slowed his own breath as he tried to relax and just wait for his friend to wake up. 

Sometime later, he jerked to alert at the sudden shift in rhythm, the low groan as Blair turned over and said his name. "Jim?" 

Immediately awake, Jim sat straight up. "I'm here. You okay?" 

"I'm better. I sort of ache all over, but I can breathe again." 

"You feel up to some juice or tea?" 

"Juice first, tea later." 

"Your wish." 

While Jim fetched the orange juice, Blair struggled awkwardly to sit up, the covers twisted around his body like wet netting. He pushed back the sweat damp curls from his face and reached out for his drink with a shaky hand. "Thanks." 

"You need to take your pills again, too." 

"In a minute." 

"Sure." 

Blair finished the drink and then shook his head. "I have to pee, man." 

"No problem." 

Handing the empty glass back to Jim, he pushed off the blankets, his movements less than steady. "I can do it. Just give me a minute." 

"Don't be stubborn. I can help." 

Looking up, Blair smiled wanly. "I know, Jim, but I'd rather you just fixed some tea. I'll be out in a minute." 

Reluctantly, still worried, Jim watched as Blair stood, grabbing the edge of the couch for balance. "Whoa." He sat back down abruptly and then frowned. "Guess I spoke too soon, man. Give me a hand if you want." 

Not thrilled to be proven right, Jim helped him to his feet and down the hall, Blair's strength obviously not returned fully. Once there, Blair waved him away as he used one hand to brace himself against the wall. "I'll handle the rest on my own." 

"You sure?" 

"Touch my dick and I'm a goner." 

Jim smiled and nodded. "I'm right outside. What tea do you want?" 

"Fennel. It's in a jar over the stove." 

"Got it." 

As Jim boiled water, he focused on the sounds in the bathroom, Blair going and flushing, then washing his hands. After a few moments, his lover settled at the table, his thick terry robe now wrapped tightly around him. "It's freezing in here." 

"Not really, but I can turn up the thermostat if you want." 

"How about a fire instead?" 

"Sure. Let me finish this tea first and I'll light one." 

"Thanks." After a brief pause, he coughed several times and then cleared his throat, adding the used tissue to the growing pile in the trash. "I'm sorry about scaring you this morning, man." 

Jim handed Blair his water and pills and then sat down across from him. "I'm just glad you're going to be okay." 

Nodding, Blair took his hand, his eyes avoiding Jim's. "Heard anything from Simon about the case yet?" 

"No. He'll call when he has something." 

Blair hesitated and then swallowed hard. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think something happened this morning before you got home." 

Sitting up straighter, both hands now holding Blair's, Jim registered his lover's fast heartbeat. "What are you talking about, Chief? What happened?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"You're losing me here." 

"I'm sorry. It's just that I was so sick. I'm not sure if it really happened or I was just dreaming." 

Squeezing his hand gently, Jim urged Blair to continue. "Come on, babe, tell me." 

"There was a phone call." 

"What kind of phone call?" 

"I was really out of it, but I could've sworn it was Ben." 

"Ben Sherman?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fuck. Did the machine get it?" 

"No. I picked up because I was downstairs already. Anyway, I'm not even sure it was him. My mind could be playing tricks on me with all the shit that's been going on, you know?" 

"What did he say?" 

"It's finished." 

"That's it?" 

"Yeah, man. That's why I can't be sure it was him." Blair wet and then bit his lower lip before he spoke. "I mean, it's been fifteen years, but I swear, it sounded like Ben." 

"And all he said was, it's finished?" 

"Yeah. That's all." 

Jim stood up and patted Blair on the shoulder before he picked up the phone to call Simon. 

* * *

Simon slipped off his long coat and handed it over to Jim. He spoke in a near whisper. "How's he doing?" 

"He's upstairs sleeping. He's doing better." 

"That's a relief." 

As Jim handed Simon a beer, he prompted, "So what did you find out?" 

"The phone call came from a phone booth over on Lincoln." Simon took a long swallow before he continued. "It's right across from a dump called Regent Homes." 

"I know it." 

"Having worked Vice, I'm sure you do." Sagging down in a chair at the table, Simon wiped his face with both hands, his features drawn and haggard. "You're not going to like this." 

"What?" 

"We've got another body. We're pretty sure it's Sherman. We're running prints now for confirmation." 

"Fuck." 

"Yeah, well, he left a note, too. The condensed version is that Butcher ruined his life and so he waited for Butcher's release to kill him." 

"And then he committed suicide?" 

"Yeah. Overdose. Pure heroin. He was a user, so it wasn't an accident." 

"Double fuck." 

Both men sat quietly for several long moments. Finally, Jim sat down across from his captain and friend. "I guess this at least puts Burns in the clear." 

"Yeah, it would if we hadn't found a letter from Burns to Sherman telling him where to find Butcher." 

Jim closed his eyes, the image of the concerned captain sitting with his lover playing over in his mind. He worked his tongue into submission. "You're saying Burns led Sherman to Butcher knowing what he had planned?" 

"It looks that way. Proving it may be difficult." Simon paused briefly before he added, "I'm not even sure I want to try. There's nothing overtly incriminating in the letter." 

"Just a note between old friends? Come on, Simon, we both know better." 

"Know better than what, Jim?" Blair's voice interrupted their conversation as the younger man came down the stairs. Still looking exhausted and ill, he made his way to the table without falling over, but just barely. As he settled into the chair, he held his head and rubbed his temples. "Could I have some aspirin, please?" 

"Sure." 

As Jim got the pills and water, Simon frowned. "You look awful, Blair." 

"It's been a rough few days. Now what are you and Jim talking about? Is it about the case?" 

Jim and Simon exchanged glances as Jim settled back down at the table. "I don't want you to get too upset about this, Chief." 

"Just tell me." 

Simon answered before Jim could. "We think Ben Sherman's dead." 

"You think?" 

"Well, we're pretty sure." 

"How sure?" 

"Pretty damn sure. We also think he killed Butcher before he killed himself. At least that's the way it's stacking up." 

Grim, Blair covered his face with his hands for a moment before he looked up, his eyes sad and miserable. "You know, I always thought Ben would make it. I don't know why, but he just seemed so much stronger than Michael or me." After a pause, he focused on Simon. "What were you and Jim arguing about?" 

"We weren't arguing, Chief." 

"I'm talking to Simon." 

Bristled, but contained, Jim kept his mouth shut as Simon stared first at him and then back at Blair. "We were talking about Carl Burns." 

"What about him?" 

Simon grimaced and then answered softly. "We think he's the one who set it up for Sherman to find Butcher so he could kill him." 

Sitting back, both his hands flat on the table, Blair shook his head. "No way. No fucking way. Carl wouldn't do that. Besides, he said he lost track of Ben years ago after Michael died. Said he'd been looking for him all this time, but couldn't find him." 

"He lied about that." Jim leaned in, keeping his voice steady. "We have a letter that tells Sherman where to find Butcher. Makes me wonder what else he lied about." 

"Jesus, you're such a fucking cop, man." Blair stood up, his face flushed with anger, the chair falling back with a sudden crash. 

"Settle down, Blair." 

"Fuck that. I can't believe you'd think he'd help kill a man. He saved my life, Jim. He saved all our lives. He just wouldn't do that." 

As Blair walked to the window, Jim followed with Simon standing beside him. "You two have no idea what he did for me." 

Simon spoke first. "We don't know for sure he meant for the letter to be used like it was, Blair. We're going to talk to him, that's all." 

Still raging, Blair wrapped his arms around himself and turned to Jim. "But you believe it. That's what you were arguing about." 

"Yeah, Blair, I do. The point is, it doesn't really matter what I think. I'm not even on the case. It's up to Simon and the others to decide what to do about it." 

"But you think they should charge him, right? Make him into some kind of criminal? An accessory or some such bullshit?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"You didn't have to. I know how you think." 

Not waiting for an answer, Blair took a deep breath and coughed, a long, hard hacking, doubled over by the force of the spasms. Jim wrapped him in his arms and led him to the sofa, kneeling there beside him. Talking to Simon, he motioned his head toward the counter. "Bring me his inhaler. It's over there." 

Without hesitating, Simon did just that, handing it over ready to be used. Jim spoke evenly, his voice steady and commanding. "You need to use this, Blair. Come on. Two deep puffs." 

Panicked eyes met his as Blair nodded and used the inhaler, the effect almost immediate. He settled back, still wheezing, but the coughing halted. After a few anxious moments, he managed a weak, "Oh, man, I'm sorry." 

"You better be, Sandburg. You scared the shit out of an old man." Simon wiped his brow and patted Jim's shoulder. "I'm going back to the station and see what else the team has turned up. Call me later tonight and I'll let you know." 

"Sure thing, sir. Thanks." 

"And, Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We're not going to jump to any conclusions about Burns. We're not here to hurt a fellow cop, but we don't want to condone murder, either. We'll see what he has to say before we decide on anything." 

Blair nodded, his breathing more relaxed as Jim settled in beside him. "Thanks, Simon. I appreciate that. Carl's a good man. He's not a killer." 

"No one's saying he is. Look, we'll know more after we've had a chance to talk to him." 

"I want to be there." 

"I don't think that's a good idea, Chief." 

Blair turned his head and met Jim's stoic eyes, puzzled. "Why not?" 

"You might not like what you hear." 

"I'll take my chances." 

Sighing, Jim hugged him briefly, but complained, "You always do this. You're so damn stubborn sometimes." 

Simon cleared his throat. "Guess that's my cue to leave." He headed for the door and grabbed his coat. "Call me later, Jim. The sooner we close this thing, the better." 

"Later, Captain." 

"Bye, Simon." 

As soon as the door shut, Blair relaxed and closed his eyes. "I want this to be over, too, man. I'm so sick of feeling like shit and having this hanging over our heads." 

"You've just got to be patient. And no more temper tantrums." 

"I can't help it. You piss me off sometimes. You think being a cop is the answer to everything." 

"That's not true." Noting the tightening of the words, the shorter breaths, he softened his tone. "But let's stop all this bitching, Blair. Relax and keep breathing, okay?" 

"God, you're bossy." 

"Just worried." 

Several deep, raspy breaths later, Blair cradled his head on Jim's chest and rubbed his hand several times over his heart. "I love you. I'm sorry about being so pissy." 

"You're sick. This is a rough time for you. It's okay." 

"It's not okay. I don't want to be mad at you. I'm just angry for no good reason." 

Resting his chin on Blair's curls, Jim spoke quietly. "You've got every right to be pissed, Chief. Being sick and having this case come up, it's a mess, no doubt about it. And I could've handled this whole thing with Burns better. I'm sorry. I know he's a friend." 

Blair's hand stilled, his words just a mere whisper. "I used to pretend he was my father." 

Jim's breath hitched before he could speak. "What?" 

"I never knew my dad." 

"I know." 

"So after he rescued us, I used to play like he took me home and kept me." 

"Jesus, Blair." 

"I know. It's kind of pathetic, but he was so nice. There were others who were nice, too, case workers, doctors, and other cops, but it wasn't the same. He really listened and made me laugh sometimes. I needed that. So sometimes I just pretended he let me call him dad. I spent long hours during the trial fantasizing about all the things we could do together when it was over." 

Combing his fingers through his lover's curls, Jim cradled him closer. "He sounds like a good man." 

"He is. I just wanted you to understand why I was so mad before when you were talking about him being part of this murder." 

"I hope he's not." 

"But you think he's guilty, right?" 

"I don't know what to believe. Why don't we just let Simon handle it for now? We'll deal with it all later. You just need to rest and get better." 

Blair nodded and nuzzled his face against Jim's chest, his skin still warm, but not as much as before. "Know what?" 

"What?" 

"I was having a great dream before you and Simon woke me up earlier." 

"Yeah? About what?" 

Chuckling, Blair shifted against him, using his right hand to palm and fondle his groin. "Let's just say that when I get better, you've got a date with the hood of my Volvo and some really nifty power tools." 

Jim shuddered with pleasure as Blair proceeded to tell him the details of his personal tune up. 

* * *

Jim stirred the chicken soup for the final time and practically zoned on the aroma. 

"Jim? You still with me?" 

"Yeah, just putting the finishing touches on here." Using the ladle, he served up two bowls and then carried them to the table. 

"Smells good, man. Nothing like homemade chicken soup, right? Cure for everything from warts to a badass disposition." 

Jim laughed. "I wouldn't go that far." 

Blair smiled and sipped his hot tea as Jim fetched the saltines and some napkins. "Feels good to breathe without thinking about it, man." 

"I'll bet." Jim settled at the table and enjoyed his lover's improved spirit. "You look a lot better than yesterday." 

"I feel a lot better than yesterday. God, what a nightmare." 

Jim didn't mention the now official identification of Sherman's body or his friend's scary rush to the hospital. Instead, he tasted the soup, savoring the rich flavor, not too much salt or pepper, just the right amounts of onions and noodles. After a few bites, he realized the silence. He turned his attention back to Blair, his partner's sudden quiet unsettling. "Blair? You okay?" 

"Just thinking." 

"Shouldn't think with your mouth full." 

Blair snorted and took another spoonful of soup. "This is really good, Jim. You get the recipe from Rhonda?" 

"No. Sally. It's what she always fed us when Steven and I were kids. I'd get a runny nose and there was always chicken soup to tend to it." 

"You called her?" 

"Yeah, last night after you went back to bed." 

"You talk to your dad?" 

"He's out of town, which is fine by me. Sally's the one with the recipe." And the caring. 

Blair nodded, absently stirring his soup, his lips pursed. "You're thinking again, Chief. Eat your soup and I'll give you some sorbet, raspberry, your favorite." 

Without answering, Blair put his spoon down and picked up his tea, his eyes not quite focused. After a few more moments, Jim prompted, "Come on, tell me what's going on in that head of yours." 

"Do you think Simon would let me see Ben?" 

"Ben's dead, Chief." 

"I know that." 

"Then why in the world would you want to see the body?" 

"It's hard to explain." 

"Try." 

"I can't. I just need to see him. I need to talk to Carl, too. Find out what really happened." 

Jim wiped his mouth and got up. He took his bowl over to the counter and put it into the sink before he turned around and crossed his arms. "You can't do either of those things today. Burns isn't flying in for the interview until tomorrow, which is just as well since you can't leave the apartment until then anyway. I promised Dr. Simmons bed rest through Monday." 

"And Ben?" 

Swallowing hard, fighting back the urge to argue, he relented. "If you're really sure, I'll set it up." 

"What about a funeral?" 

"Funeral?" 

"Yeah, I mean, who's going to bury him? He's got no family that I know of. He was raised in foster homes." Blair paused, chewing his lower lip and then meeting Jim's eyes. "He deserves a decent burial, Jim. What happened to him wasn't his fault." 

"I'll talk to Simon. We'll work something out." 

"Thanks." Blair stood up and walked to the window, Jim's black terry robe too big on his body. As he stood there, arms clasped around himself, his voice softened. "I can understand why he did it." 

"Did what? Killed Butcher?" 

"Yeah. I thought about it myself plenty of times." 

Jim moved to stand behind his lover, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, Chief. I think anybody can understand that. What that monster did deserved worse than prison." 

"In my head, I used to plot out how I'd do it, but then I'd get disgusted with myself and just try to forget it. It took me a long time to get past it. Now, it's all roaring like it was before." 

"Roaring?" 

"In my head. It's so loud, the memories, the screams. I hate it." 

Blair trembled in his arms, but Jim held on tight. "You're safe, babe. I've got you." 

"I know. I do. It's just I feel bad about Ben. I wish he'd called me sooner. Maybe I could've talked him through it and all this shit could've been avoided. Now, Carl might be in trouble, too. Man, this sucks." 

"Yeah, it does." 

Blair turned and relaxed into Jim's hold, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Thanks." 

"For what?" 

"Just being here." 

"Wouldn't be anywhere else." 

"I know, and I love you for that." 

"Only that?" 

Blair squeezed and released him with a smile, his blue eyes red-rimmed and swollen. He sagged down on the couch and teased. "Oh, a few other things, too." 

Playing along, Jim tilted his head and moved to sit beside him. "Just a few? Like what?" 

"Want an inventory?" 

"Sure." 

Blair's hand rubbed Jim's crotch suggestively and he talked slowly as he tried to touch each part of the sentinel's anatomy as he named it. "Well, your thick cock, your muscular thighs, your perfect ass, your..." 

"God, you're sooo superficial." 

Ghosting his fingers over Jim's mouth, Blair whispered, his voice husky. "Your soft lips, your strong chin, your gorgeous nipples..." 

Lost in the revelry of touch, Jim closed his eyes and relished his partner's love and dedication to detail. 

* * *

"God, Blair, are you okay?" 

"I'm better. We need to talk." 

Burns settled into the chair across from Blair in the interview room, his face more serious. "You look rough. What's going on?" 

"Respiratory infection. It's under control. That's not why we're here. I wanted to see you before you talked to Jim and Simon." 

"I know what you're thinking, what they've told you, and they're wrong." 

Blair relaxed slightly, his head still a little fuzzy from medication and too much stress. "I hope so, man. You have to know why they're asking though." 

"Sure, the letter makes it look like I set Butcher up. That's not how it was." 

"Then you just have to tell them that. They're fair." 

"Are they?" 

"Yeah, Carl, they are. I trust them. You can, too." 

"I'm going to look guilty, I already know that, especially since I'm not making a statement without a lawyer. I've been a cop long enough to know how that looks." 

"You've got a right to legal representation. They can't hold that against you." But Blair knew what Jim would think, what he'd said so many times about people hiding behind lawyers instead of telling the truth. 

"Sure they can. Don't bullshit a cop, Blair. You're better than that." 

Blair hesitated, didn't respond with the rush of anger welling up inside. Instead he kept his voice even and his eyes trained on his friend. Working with Jim helped his control more than he ever realized. "Why'd you lie to me about knowing where Ben was? You said you'd lost track of him after Michael died. Why bother even saying that?" 

"I don't know." 

"Sure you do. Just tell me." 

Carl sat back, his face grim. "Ben was a mess. Strung out, selling himself. I tried to get him help, get him into programs, but nothing worked. He never got over what happened." 

"So he ended up like Michael?" 

"Yeah. Same thing. You were the only one who managed to go on like nothing happened." 

"That's not true. It took me a long time to get over it." 

"But you managed." 

Uneasy, Blair took several calming breaths. "Only because I had Naomi and people who cared about me. I don't think I could've done it without help. I was in counseling for years after that." 

"You underestimate your own strength, Blair. You always did. You had this power about you even as a kid. We all saw it. Butcher would've probably gotten a deal if it hadn't been for your ability to tell the story and make us all feel it. Ben and Michael, they were broken and never managed to get fixed." 

"That still doesn't answer my question about why you lied. Why didn't you just tell me Ben was in Cascade?" 

"I guess I wanted to protect you. I figured if you knew he was in town, you might try to find him. If you did that, he might pull you into the whole thing." 

"Whole thing? Did you know what he wanted to do to Butcher?" 

"It wasn't a hard guess. He came here a few months ago. Said he knew that's where Butcher would show up as soon as he got out." 

"Why didn't he contact me?" 

"I don't know. He never told me." 

"You talked to him?" 

"Yeah, before I talked to you. I wanted to try to get him into a program before things got out of hand." 

Blair leaned forward, his hands fisted together on the table. "Why didn't you turn him in to the police, Carl? You knew what he was planning, even gave him the address. He needed you stop him, maybe get him some real help. He'd still be alive if you'd done that." 

"So would Butcher." 

Blair's breath caught at the force of the admission. "You wanted Butcher dead." 

"Didn't you?" 

Not answering, Blair stood up, his trembling hands pushed deep in his jeans pockets. "I'm really sorry, man. What you did was wrong. I think you know that. I don't know if you'll go to jail. I hope not. You were there for me when I needed you. I guess I'm too close to all this to be too objective." 

"Butcher deserved what he got, Blair. You can't deny that." 

"But Ben didn't. We could've helped him." 

"Nobody could save Ben. He was lost just like Michael and all the other boys. Butcher did that." 

"Other boys?" 

"You weren't the first. There were others. We just couldn't touch him for those because we didn't have enough evidence and testimony. Without you, he'd never have been charged and convicted. What kind of system is that?" 

"The only one we have, man. Granted, it's not perfect, not by a long shot." 

"Tell me about it. I've been a cop long enough to see some terrible things." 

Blair headed for the door, but paused and spoke in a hush. "Maybe it's time you stopped being a cop, Carl. You can't do this job if you're judge and jury, too." 

"Don't preach to me about justice. And don't tell me you haven't seen your buddy Ellison doing the same thing. I've read his record. He's killed a lot of people, people who deserved killing." 

Stiffening, Blair shook his head. "We're not talking about Jim here. You can rationalize and deflect all you want, but it comes down to the same thing. You made a mistake and now Ben's dead. You're partly to blame for that." 

Burns crossed his arms and frowned. "I'm sorry you feel that way." 

"Me, too, man. Me, too." 

* * *

"You okay, Chief?" 

"I will be." Blair sighed deeply and slumped down on the couch. He ran a hand back through his hair and shook his head, the curls stubborn and falling forward all over again. "It's just hard to get my head around it." 

"I know. At least Burns won't be charged. The DA doesn't want the publicity or hassle with the LA department." 

"I can't blame him. It's a hard case to figure." 

"Black and white's a lot easier than grey, that's true." 

Blair looked up and frowned, his blue eyes still sad. His voice broke as he spoke. "I should've listened to you about seeing Ben's body. I hated seeing him like that." 

Jim studied his partner's grave features and sat down beside him. Pulling him close, he kept his voice steady. "We'll have the funeral on Wednesday. Megan offered to play the organ for free and H has a cousin who donated some flowers and who'll do the marker for a discount. Father Danville, the police Chaplin, will do the service. You want to do the eulogy?" 

"Yeah, I'll say something." Blair snuggled in closer. "Thanks, man. I appreciate you taking the time to do all that." 

"It's not a problem. Everybody pitched in and it was arranged in no time." 

"I just wish we could've done something before he died." 

"Yeah, we all wish that, Chief." Jim held his lover and listened to the slowing heartbeat. "You want to go upstairs for awhile? You're still pretty wiped out." 

"In a little bit maybe. Just hold me." 

"I can do holding." 

"I know that's right. Nobody holds me like you do." 

His chest rumbling with a jealous laughter, Jim squeezed him with affection. "And nobody had better try, either." 

"No worries. I'm all yours, Jim." 

"You better believe it." And Jim knew the truth in the words, knew their faith swelled and filled them both with only absolute love and assurance. Quietly, he kissed Blair's curls and closed his eyes, drifting on the rush of undying devotion. 

* * *

The end

 


End file.
